DocLock
by Jehnner
Summary: Sherlock Holmes meets his match in the eccentric, equally-brilliant 11th Doctor. Some Sherlock/John. Mostly AU.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes had not slept for four days. He had been busy with one of those cases in which he had no downtime, not even to sit in a chair and analyze details. Clue after clue had been thrown carelessly about the city as if by a toddler in mid-tantrum. It had meant a seemingly endless amount of cab rides and brief stints of running for 96 hours before he finally solved the mystery (ironically, the butler had been to blame. Sherlock did not find this amusing.), and so he was ready for some much-deserved sleep.

Sherlock stumbled into the apartment, dragging John in behind him. The poor man had lost as much sleep as the consulting detective, but was far less used to staying awake for all those hours.

"John."

"Mmh?" The blond blinked sleepily at Sherlock, dragging his feet.

"Go get some sleep," Sherlock commanded, albeit not unkindly.

"I am," came the muddled response.

"You're headed towards the kitchen," Sherlock told him patiently before taking pity and leading him to the nearest bedroom- this was, of course, his own.

John didn't even seem to notice when the taller man sat him down on a foreign bed, took off his shoes, and placed a pillow under his head. A small smile graced his face before he drifted off, which Sherlock took to be a thank you.

Not caring enough to go find another place to sleep, Sherlock threw his scarf, coat and shoes in the corner before curling under the covers. John's smaller body had already begun to warm the bed, and Sherlock dozed off in minutes.

John Watson had not slept for four days. When he finally did collapse of exhaustion, he slept for eleven straight hours. He may have slept for even longer had he not been awoken by a peculiar noise coming from the outside.

Suddenly, his mind was asking several questions at once. _Why was he in Sherlock's bed? What was making that sound? How had they gotten home? _And then, _oh God had something happened between Sherlock and him? _Finally, and perhaps most alarmingly, _why couldn't he find it in himself to mind if something had?_

John crawled out of bed, stiff from sleeping for so long. For a moment he thought of reaching for his cane before recalling that he didn't need it anymore. What he did need was to go to the bathroom, and perhaps have some tea. He silently crept out of the room, not wanting to wake Sherlock, who looked endearingly peaceful while at rest, his black locks in a fray about his head.

Upon entering the living room, John froze.

Then blinked rapidly.

And then rubbed at his eyes.

Before him, parked directly next tot Sherlock's chair, was a large blue box. Had Sherlock brought this in last night as well? He couldn't remember seeing the box before, but he admittedly had been quite knackered.

Suddenly, that noise from before began emanating from the box. John realized belatedly that it had sounded so loud because it had been coming from the room next door. In the next moment, the Police Box began to disappear before his eyes.

_That's it_, thought John. _I'm still loopy. I'm going back to bed_.

He briefly considered returning to his own room before opting in favor of a bed filled by Sherlock's delicious scent.

John made a quick trip to the bathroom, splashed some water in his face to no avail, and then headed back towards his best friend's bed.

He was just running his hand through his messy hair when he was hit full in the face with what felt like a two-by-four. He fell backwards, letting out an expletive as he grabbed his bleeding nose. He groaned slightly as he assumed correctly that a bump would begin forming on his head within minutes.

"Oh! Sorry, so sorry!" Came a voice from above. Watson looked up blearily to see a man pushing past a girl to run out of the rematerialized Police Box. The man neared Watson, holding out a handkerchief.

"Ouch. Looks like he could use a Doctor," the girl remarked. She still stood in the doorway of the large blue box inhabiting the space directly in front of Sherlock's bedroom door. She had orange hair and wore a slight smile, though Watson thought he could see some concern in her eyes.

John called Sherlock's name out feebly before promptly blacking out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Doctor," Amy Pond whined, slumping over in her chair. "We've been running around saving people basically non-stop for days now, can't we take a break? Visit some warm, relaxing planet? Or even a quiet historical event? How about Picasso? I think I enjoy artists, if Van Gogh was any indication."

"Oh, I don't want to see Pablo again, we didn't get on very well the last time. His head is so big it makes the Face of Boe look small."

"A different artist then?"

"Oh, I've seen the lot of them alrea-" the Doctor broke off midsentence, throwing himself abruptly around to the TARDIS' monitor. His eyes scanned the console quickly before he began to flip switches and push down various levers.

"I'm sorry, Amy, we're going to have to go back home!"

"What? Why?" she called in protest, standing immediately, eyes wide with the long-held fear of being left behind yet again by her best friend.

"I need to seek some expert advice, by someone nearly as clever as me."

Amy's eyes widened. Now that was quite a compliment. "And who would that be?" she asked, completely intrigued, fear forgotten for the moment.

"Elementary, my dear Pond!" The Doctor said with a twinkle in his eye. He skittered about landing the TARDIS as Amy squeaked in glee.

The Doctor hurried down the stairs and began reaching for the door when a familiar sound began to emanate.

"Oh, no no no!" He cried, running back up to the controls. His unreliable box was taking off again, seemingly of its own accord.

Amy watched the flustered man do what was necessary to re-land before asking, "The TARDIS taking off by itself again… that's not good, is it?"

"Not really," the Doctor replied, looking around hesitantly before heading once more towards the door, followed closely by his eager companion.

He began to pull open one of the blue doors when he saw a blond man walk face-first into the other.

_Ouch_, he mouthed before jumping out and crying, "Oh! Sorry, so sorry!"

He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it to the injured man. He appeared to be in his late thirties and of relatively short stature. _Could it be…? _The Doctor thought, amused and enthralled.

Amy reached the door and glanced at the man's bleeding nose, remembering briefly when she herself had walked into the same door.

"Ouch. Looks like he could use a Doctor," she stated, concerned for the man yet unable to stop the smile on her face as she watched her raggedy Doctor gently tend to the unconscious man on the floor.

"Is he going to be alright?" Amy asked, coming closer for inspection.

"Oh, he may have a bump on his head, but he'll be fine. More importantly, he said 'Sherlock,'" the Doctor smiled. "I was worried we'd landed in the wrong place. And that means I was right about the man, too. Amelia Pond, meet John Watson."

"Watson!" she exclaimed in delight. "Then where is…?"

"I'm over here," came a deep, disembodied voice from behind the big blue box. "You clearly know who_ I_ am. Now would you please move your so-called Police Box, so I can get out of my room and learn who _you_ are?"

"Oh! Um, of course I would, Mr. Holmes, but she's been acting a bit strangely today. Would you mind too much just squeezing past?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, pushing through the small gap. Normally he wouldn't bother budging until he had his way, but he was absolutely intrigued by these two strangers and the big blue box. Additionally, and though he would never admit it, he was concerned for John, who seemed to be knocked unconscious.

Amy giggled a bit at seeing the large man jam himself through the space in such an awkward manner. His light green eyes flashed up at her, calculating and knowing.

Sherlock stepped into the living room, doing a quick 360 as he took in the details of the man's clothing, the false Police Box, the girl's posture.

The man stepped forward, holding out a friendly hand and smiling. The smile reached all the way to his eyes— he was genuinely happy to meet Sherlock. _Old eyes, _Sherlock noted in surprise.

They shook hands cautiously, each openly gauging the other's demeanor and intelligence.

"Hello," said the man in the blue bow tie. "I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"Yep!"


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading and for the reviews! I'm really sorry about the short chapter lengths and how long it takes me to get them up... the life of a new college student does not allow for too much free writing time.

Hope you enjoy! I can only do my best to do these fantastic characters justice.

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><p>Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Doctor, who gestured about at him.<p>

"Go ahead, do your thing," he enthused.

"What thing?" Sherlock asked flatly.

"Oh, don't play dumb!" the Doctor cried, looking at Amy with a smile. The anticipation was clear in his eyes. Sherlock found this to be slightly endearing. The man wanted a show? Well, he could put on a show. This Doctor certainly had.

"Well, I can begin with assuming you two are platonic friends who travel together, perhaps in this false Police Box. If that's the case, I can assume you're from the future and/or alien—no, not the girl, just you, Doctor. Now, what do you need my help with?"

Amy's mouth had dropped open, and even the Doctor looked surprised.

"They didn't exaggerate, did they? You really are a proper genius."

By this time, John had awoken groggily. He wasn't altogether sure of this fact, however, because it seemed Sherlock was calling the people in their living room aliens. He shook his head slightly, winced, and called out his best friend's name.

At the pathetic call coming from the floor, Sherlock immediately went over to John and crouched beside him. He touched John's head gently, with the excuse of feeling for a bump, taking a few extra seconds to graze the blonde's jaw bone.

"Are you going to tell us how you knew all that?" asked the girl with the Scottish accent, her voice still higher than usual due to her surprise.

After helping John into his chair and cleaning him up a bit, Sherlock turned to face the strangers. "Only on the condition that you'll fill in the blanks."

"All that I can," the Doctor promised.

Sherlock nodded. Here came his favorite part. Talking to someone about his deductions, allowing all of his thoughts to be heard aloud, gave the consulting detective a special kind of rush.

"First off, look at this so-called Doctor's outfit. A bowtie and suspenders? No, if you were his girlfriend or wife you would certainly have more of a say in what he wore. The travelling is clear from what you're wearing, it's at least a few days old and hasn't been washed—you, too, have been doing an awful lot of running, haven't you?"

Without giving them time to answer the question (which was, to be fair, mostly rhetorical), Sherlock jumped up and walked over to the TARDIS. "Now, this isn't a real Police Box. Those doors always opened outwards, while these open inwards. Also! You knew who I was. Either you're another stalker—but you know, I really don't think you seem the type. I've seen your eyes, far too ancient for your apparent age, and you only live to be that old if you run away rather than run after something—or you're from the future, and my reputation precedes me, as it well should." _Interestingly enough, _thought Sherlock, _he had also known Watson. And the way he had said it_— _as if they were inseparable, never one seen without the other_—_did that mean their relationship, whatever it was, would last?_

"Being that you searched me out, landing in my house and all, you must need my help with a case. Have I forgotten something? Oh, right!" he exclaimed in glee, leaving the Doctor to close his mouth again, not having been fast enough to answer the question before Sherlock got there. The Doctor huffed briefly. He was used to being the one to ask the questions aloud only to cry out the answer the next moment in an epiphany.

"That last bit was a bit of a long shot, but, you see, I've always so enjoyed taking risks. The girl—"

"Amy Pond," she interjected, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Yes, Amy, well she walks about as if completely comfortable with the place. Her eyes are young and new and full of wonder. This is all as new to her as it is to me. But as for you, Doctor, I think you put forth more enthusiasm than you feel. I think it's easier to immerse yourself in Amy's innocent joy than think too hard about the things you've done in your long life… Long life, too long. That means either in the future they finally discover the Fountain of Youth, or you're some sort of alien. The latter seems more likely, as you're holding some sort of foreign piece of technology, as well as your possession of this… could it be? This is what you travel in, I assume, so… time machine?" Sherlock finished, a rare childlike wonder momentarily crossing his expression. John, who had been watching from the chair, felt his heart melt.

"Time and Relative Dimensions in Space," the Doctor confirmed.

"So, TARDIS?" John asked tentatively from the couch. He figured there had to be an acronym for such a mouthful.

"Exactly!" the Doctor smiled, touching the box fondly and opening the door a crack, allowing Sherlock his first glimpse inside.

"No one ever understands, but I think she's—"

"Sexy," Sherlock finished for him.

The Doctor spun on the spot, raising an arm to grab Sherlock's bony shoulder. "You, Mr. Holmes, are even more fantastic than I'd imagined."

"Call me Sherlock. Now, why do you need my services? Most people would go to the police for help."

"You know the police aren't good for much in areas of complicated matters."

"How complicated? I need specifics."

"Okay. Who is your worst enemy at this time?"

"Moriarty," Sherlock answered, intrigued by the _at this time _part of the sentence.

"So imagine Moriarty is suddenly teamed up with a team of aliens bent on taking over the world and wreaking general havoc. They will have technology and weapons far beyond this time and extremely high levels of intelligence. Sound complicated enough?"

Sherlock stared at the Doctor, unblinking. "Yes, certainly. So what's really going on?"

The Doctor swallowed. "Moriarty has teamed up with a team of aliens bent on taking over the world and wreaking general havoc."

"Ah."

"Yeah."


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! Obviously it's been a ridiculous amount of time between the last update and today, and I apologize that it took me so long. I was busy with my first year of college and also admittedly was unsure of what direction to take the story in next. Finally some inspiration came, so I hope you enjoy the newest chapter.

Also, I'm not sure if I mentioned it before, but one of the reasons this story is AU is because Amy never met Rory, hence why he is not travelling with her and the Doctor. He may show up later, but I just wanted to explain his current absense.

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><p>"But what use can I be in this instance?" Sherlock wondered aloud. "I solve mysteries, look into crimes. If these aliens have just teamed up with Moriarty, isn't it more in <em>your <em>job description to fix this little issue up?"

"Job description?" The Doctor wore a confused little smile.

Sherlock smirked. "The _Doctor? _Doctors typically note a disturbance and come up with a remedy, do they not? Although I suppose we can assume that you're not a real doctor, I mean you can't have gotten a degree… or is that rude of me? To believe that aliens don't get degrees? I'm a bit out of my element here, you understand."

The Time Lord smiled wider, and more genuinely this time. He was quite enjoying his time with this man. "I suppose that's true, no I haven't a real degree, it's not rude, and I do understand," he replied in his typical speedy manner.

"Okay, so it's not your real name then, right?" John chimed in from his chair, managing to follow that bit of the conversation at least.

Truthfully, it unnerved him a bit to be meeting a man who could seemingly keep up with Sherlock's intellect. He was currently using all of his willpower to not name the feeling stirring inside him as jealousy. Sherlock had always needed to slow himself down to explain things to John. Was that just holding him back?

Honestly, John mused on, who cared if the man in front of them was not human? If he stuck around, Sherlock surely wouldn't be needing plain old John Watson by his side to solve murders with. And, he begrudgingly added in the privacy of his own mind, this Doctor chap was quite a handsome man. He had no idea if Sherlock noticed these kinds of things, but if he did he had to be comparing the two of them.

"It's what they call me!" The Doctor answered cheerily.

"That's not what he asked, though, is it? So what _is _your real name?"

Amy snorted. "Good luck getting that one out of him!"

The Doctor spun to face her and placed a hand against his Police Box. "Amy, we've talked about this, The Doctor _is_ my name, and if I was born with another then it'd probably be really hard to pronounce anyway so it doesn't matter."

"But Doctor-" Amy began to protest before Sherlock regained the room's attention again by loudly clearing his throat.

"We've gone off subject, it seems. I want to know why you've come to me specifically. What about my services are so invaluable to you?"

"You _know _Moriarty. How he thinks, what moves he will be most likely to make in a given situation, his faults and weaknesses. Also, I have this…" And here, he pulled a small steaming jar of blue goop from a pocket inside his jacket before continuing on to say, "and I would like your help in determining what it might be used for. I tried to get the TARDIS to tell me but she couldn't quite figure it out; my best guess is that it's some hybrid of human and alien technology. I know you're quite good with the chemistry. So, what do you say?"

Sherlock opened his mouth only to hear the Doctor add in a vaguely sing-songy manner, "Just saying, if you don't help me, your planet could come to its untimely demise. Just throwing that out there." He lowered his hands and took a step back, presumably to lean coolly against the TARDIS but missing by an inch and instead stumbling back into a sofa.

John and Sherlock shared a look that Amy had seen time and time before, a look that said _is this guy for real? _They maintained eye contact for a few seconds too long, enough time for Amy to cock her head and question whether the relationship between the detective and doctor was as platonic as it was made to seem in the stories. The ginger smiled to herself. She planned on finding out.

Sherlock turned back to the Doctor. "Okay," he said, with the slightest smile playing about his lips. An adventure was about to begin, perhaps one of even bigger proportions than he'd ever experienced. "I accept your proposal."

The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Amy, please accompany our expert detective to the lab." Amy and Sherlock glanced at each other before nodding their consent to the Doctor. "And I believe I would like Dr. Watson to accompany me for the day as a temporary companion." He went over to John and pulled him to his feet, then began to walk over to the TARDIS.

"Hold on, hold on," John protested, stopping outside of the TARDIS doors and gazing at the blue box with trepidation. "Where exactly are we going?"

The Doctor snaked a hand out the doors and pulled the hesitant man in. "You might want to rephrase that question-" he started saying as he moved around a control panel in the middle of the surprisingly large room.

_Oh, don't say it,_ they heard a voice cut in from outside the doors.

"-to _when_ exactly are we going!" the Doctor finished with a grin, before pulling down a large lever.

Amy did a half-groan, half-laugh as the TARDIS dematerialized. "Good luck!" she called. She really didn't know the Doctor's destination, nor why he wanted to take John Watson along in her place, but she trusted him completely.

Within half an hour, Amy and Sherlock were in the lab of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Sherlock was moving swiftly about the lab, reading glass slides with small amounts of the blue substance. Amy watched him silently, her hazel eyes studying his porcelain skin, gorgeous cheek bones, and the lovely locks of dark curls falling into his eyes as he leaned over.

"So," she began, causing Sherlock, who seemed to have forgotten she was there, to give a slight start.

"How does this all work? You do a little magic, make some good guesses, and we can go stop Moriarty's mischief in its tracks?" Amy drew closer, suddenly feeling lost in Sherlock's clear green eyes. _I can see why John follows you everywhere you go, _she thought fervently.

"You're bloody gorgeous," she said aloud. Sherlock's eyes flicked up from the microscope. He raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in demeanor. Oddly enough, and it was _quite_ strange for him in particular, he found himself wanting to tell the girl that she was the one who was attractive. He struggled to keep his thoughts in order. She'd asked him a question, had she not?

"It's not magic, it's chemistry," he corrected, standing up. "And I don't make guesses, I make deductions." His palms were sweating. Had he taken some spoiled milk in his tea this morning? He didn't understand why he was suddenly coming down with such symptoms.

"Well, I have a deduction," Amy Pond purred, moving closer under the pretext of fixing Sherlock's collar.

"And what's that?" Sherlock asked quietly, his heart beating quicker. He found himself being pulled forward, causing his hand to go out blindly and touch something warm—_the blue goop_, he realized with a nervous feeling.

Amy pulled his chin up slightly so that his eyes met hers. "There's some chemistry between us," she murmured before closing the space between their lips.


End file.
